


Yuletide Blessing in Disguise: The steamier version

by Gandalfs_Beard



Series: Yuletide Blessings in Disguise: The Clean and the Steamy Versions [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14097777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gandalfs_Beard/pseuds/Gandalfs_Beard
Summary: This collection will contain the more explicit versions of some chapters ofYuletide Blessing in Disguise.





	1. Chapter 18: The Second Task

Now it was _really_ crunch time! There was barely a week to go and Harry had finally mastered his metamorphmagus gillyweed mimicking transformation on Saturday. Not to mention that Hermione was really pleased that after much practice, Harry’s inking of the Rune Sequences she had worked out for him was flawless. All that remained was to practice inking himself. 

And that was the problem! 

After skimming through the Charms textbooks for every year, Hermione had searched endlessly in the library for a spell which would make it easier for Harry to practice tattooing the runes on himself. Then she remembered the row of ancient looking tomes on the bookshelf in Harry’s private quarters. Hermione gnawed her lower lip as she blew the dust off the cracked leather binding of one which looked promising while Harry was diligently revising his Arithmancy homework in his sitting room.

“Hmm... _Charmes for the Boudoir of the Moste Beauteous_ ,” Hermione muttered to herself. “I wonder...”

Hermione began leafing through the pages. Her eyes widened and she gasped at a number of scandalous spells complete with illustrations. Clearly the book was intended for every possible activity in which one might engage in a Boudoir. Flushing, Hermione lingered on some of the pages, imagining how they might be put to use with a certain someone she had fallen head over heels for.

It took every effort for Hermione to tear herself away from that chapter. Her heart still racing, a tingly sensation still rushing through her veins, Hermione flicked through the pages of the next chapter, one regarding bedroom furnishings which looked much more likely to contain something useful for her most immediate needs... well, for Harry’s most immediate needs anyway. The others might come in handy at a later date.

On the fifth page of the chapter, Hermione’s eyes lit up when she finally spotted a spell which was exactly what she needed. It was surprising really that she hadn’t found the spell in more recent advanced charms books. Hermione peered up at the mirror on Harry’s dresser. She wasn’t sure that it was large enough or low enough for Harry to see more than his head and shoulders.

Hermione popped into Harry’s bathroom and beamed. Perfect! The mirror was wide and tall, and the sink counter in front of it was low enough that Harry would be able to see his entire torso.

Hermione uttered the incantation, “Speculo Imago Novis,” as she precisely executed the wand movements. When the desired result was achieved she gleefully bounced on her toes.

“Harry! I’ve done it! I’ve done it,” she squeaked loudly. “Come and see.”

Harry cautiously peeked through the door. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“If I wasn’t decent, I wouldn’t have called, silly.” Though Hermione wasn’t entirely sure if that was true - especially after perusing the chapter preceding the one in which she had found the spell.

“Erm... What am I supposed to be looking at?” asked Harry, looking puzzled.

“The mirror - look.”

“Erm...” Harry said again, still looking bewildered. 

“Come _here_ and look,” said Hermione, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer.

“Er...” it still took Harry a few moments to register what he was seeing in the mirror. He gasped. “It’s reversed - I mean it’s the right way round... er... I’m not sure what I mean. How...?”

“The spell - I found it in a really old book - these quarters must have originally belonged to a professor who was a witch. The book is especially geared for Boudoirs.” 

“Er, what’s a Boudoir?” asked Harry.

“A woman’s bedroom,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes again. “ _Honestly_ Harry, haven’t you ever read a...?” Then Hermione trailed off, turning pink and feeling a bit embarrassed. “Of course you haven’t! I’m sorry Harry - it’s not very likely that you’ve ever read a romance or a women’s magazine.”

Harry smiled wanly and shook his head, looking slightly abashed himself. “No, I haven’t! Aunt Petunia never left anything like that lying around. And even if I’d seen one in my primary school’s library, I probably would’ve never looked in it. ... I preferred fantasy and science fiction stories to tell you the truth. It’s kind of weird come to think about it... I always loved stories with wizards and witches and elves and unicorns - stuff like that.”

“That’s not that odd, really, I suppose,” said Hermione, looking thoughtful. “Anyway, now you’ll be able to practice inking yourself with the runes...”

“Wow! Of course! That’s _brilliant_ , Hermione!” I’d better hop to it then...”

“Well, you probably won’t have time tonight,” Hermione pointed out reasonably, “I mean, it’ll be curfew for me in about forty five minutes, and you really ought to get to sleep at a sensible hour. You can practice in the afternoons after practicing the combat spells and fighting underwater with Fleur. You’re really good at the calligraphy, so I expect you’ll only need two or three days to get it right - which is really good because the Second Task is on Friday. And don’t worry about homework for any of your other classes this week - I’ll help you catch up next week...”

Hermione finally paused to take a breath and Harry took the opportunity to kiss her. Hermione melted into the kiss and when they both came up for air, she felt a bit breathless and tingly again.

“I take it you have a plan for how to occupy ourselves before curfew then?” said Harry, grinning.

“That I do,” Hermione agreed, blushing and feeling a bit nervous and hopeful. 

Moments later, Hermione was vigorously kissing Harry again, this time on the sofa in front of the fireplace in the sitting room, bathed in the warm orange glow of the crackling flames. She sensed Harry’s passion rising beneath her. Harry suddenly turned pink and pulled back...

“Er... m-maybe... erm... perhaps we should take a break,” Harry stammered.

Feeling emboldened, her heart pounding, Hermione took a chance. She trailed her fingers across his chest and leaned in close again.

“We don’t have to stop, if you don’t want to,” Hermione whispered breathily in his ear.

“Er... really?”

“Yes, really!” said Hermione planting a little kiss on Harry’s neck just under his ear.

“You’re absolutely certain, then?”

“Does this answer your question?” Hermione murmured giving Harry another kiss a bit further down his neck, her fingers now slipping inside his shirt as she wriggled slightly on his lap and felt him growing even harder against her thigh. 

Harry gave Hermione a lopsided grin, his breath quickening. Hermione could feel his heart racing under the palm of her hand as it rested on the bare skin of his chest under the shirt.

“Y...yeah, I g-guess it does,” said Harry, clearly still nervous, probably wondering how far she was planning to go. “Alright then... I’m game if you are - just say wh...when you, er... when you want to stop.” 

“Mm, you’re very sweet Harry!” Hermione undid a few buttons on his shirt, then undid a few of the buttons of her own blouse, her other hand sliding down his abdomen towards his groin. 

“Go ahead Harry,” she said breathlessly, undoing the rest of the buttons of her blouse before undoing some more of Harry’s buttons. 

“We don’t have to - you know - go all the way. I’m not sure I’m ready for _that_ either, but I... I’m definitely ready for a bit more now.” Hermione undid Harry’s belt and unzipped his trousers, sliding her hand under the waistband of his underwear to make it very clear how far she was willing to go as she unhooked her bra with the other.

**~o0o~**

Harry couldn’t believe it! They had been a bit more handsy the last few weeks, but never strayed too far beyond the hips or the curves of their backs. Though come to think of it, Hermione had certainly been rubbing her breasts up against him a lot, slipping her thighs between his, her hands roaming his chest and occasionally “accidentally” grasping his bum for leverage.

Ever since she’d started showing herself off in her two piece piece bikini in fact!

Harry suddenly realised that Hermione had been hoping for him to reciprocate and was now making it absolutely clear what she wanted by partially undressing him and herself. He wasn’t exactly sure where he should put his hands, but he knew where he wanted to put them - but he was still very anxious about putting them there.

Hermione made it even easier for Harry by shifting her torso slightly until her blouse gapped even more, making her breasts visible - those little hills with their rosy tinged jutting peaks - and by slipping her hand down further into his boxers to gently clasp his erection.

Harry gasped at Hermione’s touch, feeling her warm palm and fingers wrapped around his shaft. Hermione’s other fingers traced a path around his chest, gently flicking his own nipples. Harry gulped and reached out with his shaking hands. Hermione’s skirt was now rucked around her waist, giving Harry a perfect view of her satiny white knickers.

With one trembling hand Harry cupped one of Hermione’s boobs and gave it a tentative squeeze, and his other slid across the bare skin of her lower abdomen, his fingers experimentally slipping under the waistband of her knickers.

When Hermione didn’t leap off him in horror and run away screaming, smiling at him instead, Harry felt a surge of relief and grew bolder. He gingerly squeezed Hermione’s breast a few more times and with his forefinger traced a circle around her perky nipple before rubbing the tip - she let out a little breath, quivering slightly, but the sultry look she was giving him through half closed eyelids was very clear. 

Harry’s other hand ventured further south under her knickers, encountering some downy wisps along the way before reaching a dewy warm vale between the apex of her thighs. His fingers explored the narrow, humid crevice, discovering delicate petals within and a stiff little pearl at the near end of the crescent.

**~o0o~**

Harry’s touch was electrifying. Hermione bit her lip, a flood of pleasure rushing through her veins when he discovered the little button she would toggle after lights out in the girls’ dorm while thinking of Harry. She arched, a little moan escaping her lips.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to comprehend by her response that he had found her sweet spot. Hermione wriggled as Harry focused his attention on her tender nubbin, fondling it, gently twirling it. Her inner core tightened, the heated entrance further down her slit clenching, growing wetter.

Hermione stroked Harry’s shaft more vigorously as she ground her slit against Harry’s finger. She squirmed so fervidly that Harry’s finger slipped from her bean and she felt it slide inside her burning entrance. Harry seemed surprised.

“T...two,” Hermione managed to gasp as she rode his penetrating digit.

“Er...?” 

“Two fingers.” 

Harry dutifully complied, a sort of happy I-can’t-believe-she’s-letting-me-do-this expression on his face. In no time Harry ascertained the method by which Hermione often achieved the most satisfaction at nights behind her silence-charmed curtains, both fingers thrusting inside as far as they could go while her thumb fiddled with her pearl.

With her free hand, Hermione placed it on top of Harry’s, squeezing it more firmly around her breast and tugging her nipple with her own fingers with a bit more verve. Harry got the message and began to massage her boob enthusiastically while she switched to maul her other breast.

The heady rush of bliss took Hermione by storm, and she felt Harry’s seed spilling over her fingers as she slumped against him panting heavily, feeling his own hot, ragged breaths against her skin. She quivered as another wave of ecstasy shot through her and she faded into oblivion.

**~o0o~**

Harry woke suddenly, hearing the ding of the clock striking on the hour, one of his hands still inside Hermione’s damp knickers, the other still on her boob, her own hand still inside his boxers. Her slow, gentle breathing told him that she was still fast asleep. Already alarmed for Hermione that it was probably well past curfew, he listened for the number of dings.

When the clock stopped at six dings he started to panic. It was morning! It was bloody morning and Hermione had been asleep on top of him, both of them half-naked, all night!

Harry hated to wake Hermione but they didn’t have much choice. As he extricated his hand from Hermione’s knickers and tried to disengage his hand from her boob - with a bit of difficulty as it was trapped between her breast which was pressing against his chest - Hermione began to stir.

“Mm, that was nice, Harry,” she murmured sleepily, her eyes still closed, “What time is it? I might need to borrow your invisibility cloak if it’s after curfew.”

“N...no time for that!” Harry gasped. “It’s morning - six o’clock in the morning and breakfast starts at seven.”

 _“What?”_ Hermione’s eyes shot wide open and she bolted right up, her thighs straddling Harry’s waist. 

“Oh no!” she squeaked when she saw the time for herself. Then she began to calm down when she realised that Harry was panicking even more than her. 

“I’m sure it’ll be alright, Harry,” she said soothingly. “Lavender and Parvati won’t tell on me, and I don’t think the other girls in my dorm will either.”

“Okay! ... Okay,” Harry nodded, trying to slow his wildly beating heart. “Good... That’s good then!”

As Harry began to calm down, he suddenly became aware of the dampness between Hermione’s thighs pressing against his lower abdomen and the fact that her naked boobs were still hovering above him. He groaned as he felt himself stiffening again.

“Bloody hell! I’ll need a cold shower now!”

“There’s _really_ not enough time for us both to take separate showers,” Hermione said in her pragmatic tone of voice. “And I’m _not_ taking a cold shower! Now come on, and we’ll kill two birds with one stone...”

“What?” Harry squeaked, not sure he’d heard correctly. “Y...you mean...?”

“I mean I’m going to take care of your little problem while we’re showering,” she stated firmly as she clambered off him and grabbed his hand. “Now get up! You’ve already seen me half-naked anyway - a bit more won’t kill you.”

Harry wasn’t so sure about that. What if he had a heart attack? He tried to shake that idiotic thought from his head as Hermione dragged him to the bathroom. He goggled as Hermione quickly stripped down and exposed herself in all her glory, giving him an unrestricted view of everything she had to offer.

Hermione turned to look at Harry and rolled her eyes.

“You’ll have plenty of time for that in the shower! Now hurry up and get out of those clothes - speaking of which, I really hope you have some briefs I can borrow. I think boxers might make my skirt look a bit lumpy... though it’ll probably be wrinkled anyway, but still...”

Hermione began yanking at Harry’s shirt; and though Harry was thrilled to be showering with a nude Hermione, after he dropped his trousers he still hesitated to tug off his boxers, embarrassed to be sporting an erection in front of Hermione. It was one thing for her to stick her hand in his underwear and wank him off - this was something else altogether.

Of course, Harry could hardly back out now that Hermione was completely undressed. Seconds later, he was in the shower with Hermione behind a shower-curtain, the steam rising from the spray of hot water...

Harry felt a bit giddy after the shower, unable to help grinning like an idiot, his “problem” solved. It was lucky they had both showered together, because by the time they had dried off, cleaned their teeth, brushed their hair, and dressed (fortunately Harry did have a pair of clean briefs for Hermione to wear), straightening out their rumpled clothes to the best of their ability, it was quarter to seven.

Harry managed to wipe the grin off his face just in time. He opened the door of his private chambers, hoping that he and Hermione would arrive in the stone passage before Dora exited her own quarters, looking like they had just met and were ready for their “secret escort.” But just as Harry and Hermione stepped into the corridor, Dora emerged from the entrance of her private chambers with Fleur.

Everyone stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide!

Then there were furious blushes all the way around; Fleur tittered nervously.

Dora managed to pull herself together first. “Erm... Your secret is safe with us, guys!” 

“Er... Yours too,” blurted out Harry. “I mean yours is safe with us.”

“Ees alright,” said Fleur, smiling. “For Dora and I - there ees no trouble.” 

“Oh, right! Of course,” said Hermione.

“But with a bit o’ luck, no prefects spotted you weren’t in your dorm last night,” said Dora wryly. “Anyway, t’tell you the truth, it makes my job a bit easier if I don’t have to divide my attention between Gryffindor tower and Harry’s quarters,” she added with a conspiratorial wink.

When they all arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast, Lavender and Parvati burst into giggles when they spotted Harry and Hermione. Taking their seats, Harry and Hermione both turned pink, hoping that nobody else had noticed that Hermione had been missing from her dormitory all night.

Ron and Neville looked up from their breakfasts, almost oblivious to Harry and Hermione as their attention was focused on Lavender and Parvati, who were still giggling madly.

“What’s that all about?” Neville wondered.

“No idea mate,” Ron shrugged. “Like I said - girls - mental!”

**~o0o~**

Harry focused intently on preparations for the Second Task, trying his best - and failing miserably - to keep Hermione out of his mind. It was particularly difficult as she was with him for nearly every waking moment - when she wasn’t in her dorm like clockwork every night. Not to mention that every time Harry practiced painting the runes on himself in the mirror, it was impossible to forget their shower together.

The last night, before dinner, Hermione gave Harry a once-over to check the runes. They were perfect. But the sight of shirtless Harry, his torso more chiseled from swimming and all of the Moody workouts sorely tempted her.

Harry could barely eat a bite during dinner. He moodily chased his peas around the plate with a fork, his stomach churning at the thought of Hermione being trapped underwater for who knew how long. Hermione gave Harry a wan little smile when Professor McGonagall beckoned her following the feast. 

Harry couldn’t help noticing the rather taut expression on McGonagall’s face as she led Hermione away, and he felt like he might throw up, glad now that he hadn’t eaten anything. If McGonagall was looking so grim, as if she didn’t approve of the situation, what did that mean? Did she know something that he didn’t?

Harry tried to reassure himself that she was probably just worried because she too suspected that Harry would probably have to face some extra obstacles in the lake, and found that wasn’t helping at all.

Dora looked a bit subdued herself as she and Harry traipsed back to their quarters, and he knew she was worried about Fleur. They both lingered for a few moments in the corridor outside their doors, looking at each other. Then Dora gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll see you in the morning Harry. Try to get some sleep, alright?”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry muttered. “Night.”

But sleep seemed like a distant possibility as Harry tossed and turned. And to top it off, his scar kept throbbing and prickling; he had the distinct feeling that Voldemort was brooding in anticipation of the outcome of the Second Task. 

One o’clock ticked by...Two o’clock...Three o’clock. Harry almost gave up trying to sleep, but the next thing he knew there was a knocking on his door. Apparently he had managed to get a few hours sleep after all.

“Time t’go, Harry,” Dora called through the door. 

“Er... be right there,” Harry shouted back. He hurriedly tugged on his swimming trunks and a black t-shirt, and threw his robes on over the lot.

“Sorry about that,” Harry panted as he flung open his door. Then he noticed the dark circles under Dora’s eyes and reckoned that she had barely got any sleep too.

As they walked past the stands, Harry caught the POTTER STINKS badge flashing on the lapel of Malfoy’s robes. He rolled his eyes and considered flipping Malfoy the bird, but decided that wouldn’t be very “Championish” and continued on his way, stepping onto the wooden gangplank leading to the platform on the lake. Fleur, Cedric and Ludo Bagman were already waiting and Viktor was trailing behind Harry. 

It was a bright clear day, just a few puffy clouds in the sky and a chilly breeze. And though there were still some patches of snow on the grounds, this late in February the ice on the lake had largely melted, only a few chunks floating like little icebergs on the shimmering surface of the Black Lake. 

Bagman gave Harry a sly wink as Harry took his place next to Fleur, who was in her powder blue wetsuit, and Cedric who was wearing a black and gold wetsuit. Harry frowned; in his black swimming trunks and black t-shirt, he wasn’t representing Gryffindor very well, but he didn’t have anything in scarlet and gold which was particularly useful for swimming. He reckoned that he’d look quite ridiculous jumping in the lake with his uniform, not to mention he wouldn’t be able to swim very well in waterlogged clothes.

Once all the Champions were assembled, Cedric swinging his arms around to loosen up and Viktor standing stiffly next to him in a burgundy t-shirt and black swimming trunks, Bagman raised his wand and addressed them.

“Right, when I shoot a flare from the wand, that will be your signal to enter the lake - not before. I am assuming that you have all worked out your clues by now, but nonetheless I would be remiss not to tell you that you have one hour, and one hour only to retrieve something that you will sorely miss.

“Now, on your marks...get set...GO!” A bright red flare shot up from the end of Bagman’s wand, soaring high into the air. Viktor and Cedric dove into the lake without hesitation, followed immediately by Fleur; Harry stuffed a large pinch of Gillyweed into his mouth, making sure that all the judges could see before plunging in after the others.

Once under the surface of the freezing water of lake, Harry spat out the Gillyweed and used his metamorph powers to transfigure himself into the form he needed. He sped like a dolphin into the deep, murky waters, lighting his way with his wand. He was glad for the runes protecting him from the cold and hoped the other runes would be just as effective, also hoping he didn’t run into any creatures for which there had been no runic protections.

Harry wondered how the others were faring when he spied a forest of light-green water weeds just up ahead within the range of his wand-light. There was no going around them so he swam above them, keeping a sharp eye out for anything hiding below as he passed through a large school of trout which broke around him.

That was when the first danger made its presence known. Rapidly emerging from the water-forest below were a horde of water sprites. Harry desperately hoped the runes would work, as the creatures were just as deadly singly as they were in swarms. They didn’t look like much, as small as they were, but they were far more dangerous than Grindylow. One bite was enough to kill.

There was no doubt that _someone_ had introduced them to the lake since he had last swum in it, only a few days prior. Harry’s heart began to pound in his ears when it occurred to him that the others might not be prepared for such lethal creatures. Fleur had an inkling at least, as they had discussed the possibilities during their combat practice together in the lake,

Harry swam faster but the sprites were quick and surrounded him on all sides; a sizable group broke off the rest of the horde and were nearly on him, less than a metre between them and him. He began to panic, thinking that somehow he had made a mistake with the runes. They were almost a foot away when the nearest began shrieking in agony, their skin blistering, the sound of their echoey cries piercing his eardrums painfully before they swam away. 

Dozens more came at him, but none of them managed to break through the invisible shield radiating from Harry’s rune-warded body. After several minutes of the sprite horde ineffectively swirling around him, they gave up the ghost and disappeared into the murk. Harry heaved a sigh of relief, or at least an approximation of it as the icy water rushed through his gills.

That was when he felt a strong ripple against the current and spotted an enormous shadow - then it was gone. But Harry could still feel the shifting currents and his heart started racing again. He sensed it was now behind him and whirled around just in time to see the gigantic shadow disappear into the darkness once more.

Harry’s gills flared; he whipped around to see it vanish into blackness again. It was playing cat and mouse with him, and judging by its size Harry surmised it was probably a sea-serpent. _Fantastic Beasts_ claimed they had never hurt humans despite muggle legends to the contrary, but Hermione had disputed that based on reading multiple alternate sources in ancient dusty tomes she had found in the Restricted Section of the library and it seemed that she was right. 

Harry was beginning to wonder if those Viking Runes she had discovered in the more recent book - by which she meant a hundred and fifty years past rather than a thousand or more - would actually work. The Sea Serpent didn’t seem particularly threatened considering how it was toying with him. 

Maybe the runes would only work if it got close enough, like the water-sprites... or maybe the book just hadn’t been old enough have an accurate representation of the Viking Runes. Even Hermione had said they might be a gamble.

Crap, crap, crap, Harry thought! It was coming at him again, and this time the massive head of the beast emerging from the gloom sped toward him faster than he thought possible, its undulating body trailing behind it. Harry tried to dodge the head only to be slammed in the back of his head by the tip of its tail which had wound around him, invisible in the murk, and hit him from the rear.

As Harry tumbled through the water, seeing stars, he knew he should have been prepared for the gigantic water-snake’s feint. The sea beasts could grow upwards of a hundred feet in length. Harry tried to spin around with his flippers, reckoning that the creature would try to take advantage of his dizziness.

Not a moment too soon! Harry was still too dazed to see it properly, but he could just make out through his blurred vision the shape of its head which seemed to grow larger, and guessed that its maw was opening widely enough to swallow him whole.

“BOMBARDA MAXIMA!” Harry mouthed in the equivalent of a submerged bellow, taking a chance as he aimed his wand right at the center of the fuzzy dark shape swimming toward him rapidly. 

His eyesight cleared just in time to see that he had hit the bullseye as the bright blue spell shot down its throat. Harry was propelled backwards by the force of the water rushing at him when the spell exploded in the Sea-Serpent’s gullet.

Harry was shaking badly when his tumbling halted; he glanced back to see a long dark shadow sinking into the black depths of the lake. He didn’t know if it was just stunned or dead; he just wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. Harry fled through what appeared to be a forest of vines reaching up from the bottom of the lake, slashing his wand again and again, mouthing “Diffindo,” multiple time as he sped away.

Spying the decaying wreckage of a vessel, Harry swam inside and took a moment to calm down. Then he swam out of the other side and headed towards the centre of the lake again, hoping he wouldn’t run into any more lethal creatures. If he came across a Kelpie herd, he reckoned he might be done for as they were known for ripping their victims apart, leaving nothing but entrails behind. 

Hermione hadn’t found any Runes for those, and the only known way of subduing them was to use a Placement Charm to strap a bridle around the water-monster’s head. He had practiced the Charm, but he had no idea where the hell to find a bridle - it wasn’t like Hogwarts had any stables - and he figured there was no way Accio would bring him one in time.

Harry felt a clutch of trepidation when he saw what appeared to be another swarm of creatures up ahead. His gills flared with a sigh of relief when he saw they were Grindylows. They could be very dangerous in swarms with their razor sharp teeth and clawed fingers, but at least his Runes would protect him from those. 

He swam right through their midst and the swarm parted as they fled away from him, screeching. Finally, he saw what looked like misshapen houses built from boulders in the near distance and was sure he it must be the Merpeople’s village.

Harry put on a burst of speed hoping to reach the village before anything else untoward could happen. Then Harry saw them... a number of shadowy humanoid figures swimming towards him, trying to cut him off. Harry groaned. He should have known that something else would try to stop him at any cost.

The figures raised their arms, holding... something. Harry’s eyes widened in shock. He tried to dodge what appeared to be half a dozen arrows whizzing towards him, but they were too fast. Four flew right past him, but one ripped through the sleeve of his t-shirt, opening a gash on his shoulder; he almost dropped his wand. Harry only barely managed to avoid being skewered in the belly by the other one, by twisting his torso in the the nick of time. The arrow (?) tore through his t-shirt, slicing through the skin of his abdomen.

Harry grit his teeth in pain as blood seeped from both wounds, clouding in the water. The figures drew nearer, readying their weapons for another shot. His eyes widened in surprise when the dark silhouettes became clearer. What - or who - the hell were they? They were wearing what appeared to muggle diving gear, masks, wetsuits, rubber flippers, even oxygen tanks. 

That’s when Harry realised that the arrows weren’t arrows, they were spears from spearguns, of the sort he’d seen in a documentary the teacher had shown the class in primary school once. But what sort of wizard would be trying to kill him with muggle gear? He could hardly imagine that a pureblood like Mr Malfoy would hire muggles to do the job.

They raised their weapons again, having quickly reloaded. Harry didn’t care who they were, he wasn’t going to let them assassinate him. Professor Moody had told him to be prepared to kill if it was necessary to save his life, and knew this was such a moment, no matter how much the idea of killing someone repulsed him.

“Bombarda Maxima,” he mouthed for the second time, aiming the blasting curse into their midst.

The explosion sent shockwaves through the water, even knocking Harry himself back. At least three of the divers appeared to have been knocked out or killed by the blast. Three spears immediately followed, shot by the divers who had managed to escape the curse in time.

Two of the spears went widely off their mark as the divers were probably still dazed by the explosion, but the other came right at Harry and grazed his thigh, opening another wound. The divers had shaken off their dizziness and were swimming even closer, two of them now brandishing what appeared to be swords, blades and jeweled hilts glinting in Harry’s wand light, while the other reloaded his speargun. 

The design of swords seemed somehow familiar to Harry, but he didn’t let the divers get close enough to use them. 

“Diffindo,” Harry mouthed several times as he slashed his wand. 

A scream echoed through the water as the sword hand of one of the divers separated from his wrist, blood billowing from his stump. The other one was nearly on Harry now as another spear zipped past Harry’s head close enough to give him a haircut. That momentary distraction was all the other diver needed to get the drop on Harry.

The sword came right at Harry, nearly stabbing him in the gut. That’s when he recognised the blade as being similar to the one sitting on the wall in Dumbledore’s office - the Sword of Gryffindor which Harry had obtained in second year. Harry barely managed to escape being stabbed by twisting again, another gash opening across his abdomen. 

Harry was prepared for the pain though this time. He dodged the swipe of the sword aimed at his neck and seized the diver’s wrist. They both grappled for a moment, each trying to disarm the other; Harry kicked out, landing a sharp blow right in the diver’s belly. The diver was briefly incapacitated, the air knocked out of him. 

Harry slashed his wand ‘yelling,’ “Diffindo” again. The diver’s sword arm separated at his elbow and Harry grabbed at his mask, hoping to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, the long pointy nose and features of a screaming goblin became apparent. 

Having taken that goblin-diver out of the equation, Harry looked around wildly for the last one with a speargun. He spotted the other goblin swimming out of range rapidly. There was no way Harry was going to give the goblin another chance to kill him; he aimed his wand and shot another blasting curse at him. 

The goblin-diver was caught in the shockwave of the explosion and floated towards the surface of the lake. Dead or knocked out, Harry didn’t care at that moment. He sped away and dove into a meadow of long yellowy grasses. Gritting his teeth in pain, Harry tore off ragged strips of his t-shirt, binding the wound on his arm with one, and strapping the others around his middle to stem the bleeding from his abdomen.

Gills flaring angrily, Harry pushed on towards the village and hoped the merpeople weren’t going to give him any grief. He was startled to see that they looked nothing like he had imagine; they were silvery grey with wild looking dark green hair, yellowy eyes and jagged looking teeth.

The several Harry passed backed away from him when they saw his furious features as he brandished his wand at them. Harry swam on through the rough hewn houses, paying no attention to the gardens of water weeds and the merpeople emerging from their dwellings to watch him passing through.

Harry swam into what appeared to be the village square, his heart hammering the wall of his chest so hard that he half expected it to burst out. A crowd of singing merpeople flourishing spears and tridents surrounded the base of a gigantic statue of a merperson carved from solid rock.

They parted quickly and got out of his way, looking shocked at Harry’s expression of rage. Harry spotted them, three figures bound to the base of the statue with slimy ropes of weeds. Lavender was already gone and Harry reckoned Viktor had already collected her. Still tied to the statue were Hermione, Gabrielle, and Cho, their faces deathly pale, eyes closed, hair floating around their heads like clouds.

Panic gripped Harry’s chest when he saw no sign of Fleur and Cedric.

What if water-sprites or Grindylow had got them - or goblin assassins? Harry couldn’t bear the thought that maybe one of them had been swallowed whole by the Sea Serpent and that he had possibly blasted them with the Bombarda. 

Harry peered around frantically, hovering near the three captives. The merpeople hung back, appearing to know better than to get in his way or hurry him along.

After several minutes of dread, Harry heaved a ‘sigh’ of relief when he saw Fleur, scratched and bleeding, swimming toward him; he noticed numerous bite marks as well.

“What happened?” Harry mouthed. Fleur seemed to understand him, her features looking a bit stretched by the surface tension of the bubble surrounding her head.

“Ze Grindylows - so many!” she replied, her voice sounding muted as it rippled through the water. “And ze ozzers?”

“Viktor’s already been here,” Harry answered. “But there’s no sign of Cedric. You should take the hostages and go - I need to look for him.”

“Non!” said Fleur, shaking her head, her long silvery hair flowing. “We mus’ both go! You are bleeding badly. Ze ‘eadmasters ... we will tell them, and zey must find heem.”

Harry peered at his makeshift bandages, shocked to see how much blood had seeped through, clouding up the water. As he began to feel a bit lightheaded, Harry knew Fleur was right, but it gnawed at his gut to leave a man behind.

“Alright then,” Harry mouthed resignedly, slashing his wand at the weedy ropes binding the hostages without another word. 

He grabbed Hermione and Cho and made to swim to the surface, but Fleur, who had Gabrielle under one arm, slipped her other arm under Cho’s shoulder. Together, Harry and Fleur ascended, carrying their own hostages and Cedric’s between them.

Everyone gasped and sputtered when their heads broke the surface as the hostages came out of their bewitched sleep. There was much splashing as Harry and Fleur tried to make for the shore with all three of them. 

“I’m alright, Harry,” Hermione gasped, spitting out lake-water, “You can let me go - I’m wide awake now. I can swim for myself.”

“Alright then,” said Harry, taking Cho - who still looked dazed - from Fleur. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Harry swam for the lakeshore with Cho, Hermione at his side, and Fleur nearby with Gabrielle clinging to tightly to her sister. As they neared the platform they spied a sodden Dumbledore, water dripping from his saturated beard, and Madame Maxime stripping off her robes, preparing to dive into the lake after their students. 

The relief on the headmaster’s faces couldn’t be more profound when they spied their charges approaching the platform. Each of them hauled a hostage onto the platform from their students’ arms.

“Cedric!” Harry shouted, his chest heaving from exertion and anxiety, “He’s still down there...”

“No Harry,” said Dumbledore, “Mr Diggory is quite safe now, I can assure you. I retrieved him myself from the clutches of an unusually large swarm of Grindylows, and was just about to return to the lake for...”

“Someone probably tossed a load more into the lake,” said Harry furiously, cutting Dumbledore off as he and Hermione clambered onto the problems. “Maybe the goblins...”

“Goblins? ... What goblins?” asked Dumbledore, looking extremely surprised.

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked when she saw the state of him. “There’s blood everywhere!” 

Dumbledore and Madame Maxime both looked shocked when they saw how much blood was running down Harry’s legs from the barely covered gashes on his abdomen and dripping from his upper arm and thigh, pooling on the platform. 

Harry looked down at himself, feeling woozier than ever as the adrenaline began to ebb. Dumbledore caught Harry as he collapsed, then swept up Harry into his arms and sprinted down the gangplank to the shore, Hermione running after them wiping tears from her face. 

They burst into the tent to find Madam Pomfrey still dabbing Essence of Dittany onto Cedric’s many bites and claw-marks.

“Good Heavens!” she screeched, bolting upright from leaning over Cedric. “Get Mr Potter on the table now!”

Dumbledore lay the unconscious Harry down carefully on the surgical table and stood back as Madam Pomfrey poured the entire bottle of Dittany Essence onto his deep gashes. Then she grabbed a towel and soaked up as much blood as possible before waving her wand over Harry muttering incantations.

“Miss Granger,” she called out, “on the bench beside you - the Blood Replenishing potion, quickly!”

Still crying, Hermione grabbed the bottle right next to her and darted across to the surgical table. She watched, on the verge of hyperventilating as Madam Pomfrey poured a little bit into Harry’s mouth and then a bit more. Madam Pomfrey continued to drizzle small amounts of potion at regular intervals into Harry’s mouth. 

Finally, after a few minutes, Harry sputtered, potion dribbling from his lips. He tried to push himself up as he came to.

“Wh...what happened?” he asked as the interior of the medical tent spun around him. “What’s that awful taste in my mouth.”

“Lie back down, Mr Potter.” said Madam Pomfrey. “You lost a lot of blood and passed out. You’ll be downing a lot of that ‘awful’ potion for the next few hours, and then you’ll be spending the rest of the day and the night in the hospital wing.

“But the goblins...”

“You can tell us all about it Mr Potter, but I must insist that you lie back down.”

Harry was so dizzy, he didn’t resist as Madam Pomfrey put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Resting his head back against the pillow which Madam Pomfrey placed under it, Harry began to regale everyone with his story. 

Dumbledore and Hermione weren’t the only ones looking shocked; Dora had been dabbing Essence of Dittany on Fleur’s injuries, and her face grew darker and darker as Harry’s tale continued.

“...the only thing I don’t get,” said Harry as he was concluding his tale, “is why goblins would be wearing muggle scuba-diving equipment.”

“Because goblins who have magical abilities aren’t allowed wands by the Ministry,” said Hermione before anyone else had a chance to reply. “Goblins are like humans in all the ways that matter. Most don’t have any inherent magical abilities - the magic they have is largely due to their artifacts - but some goblins do. So without access to wands or much magic of their own, they’re forced to rely on Muggle Technology for a lot of things.”

“That makes sense,” Harry muttered, thinking back to his visits to Gringotts; the goblins had by and large seemed to be attired in modern muggle business suits.

“Bagman!” Dora hissed when Harry had finished. “I’ll bet you anything that Bagman had something to do with it!”

Professor Dumbledore rubbed at his furrowed brow and sighed. It was one thing to consider the possibility of the involvement of outside forces unrelated to Voldemort, and another thing altogether to have some of it confirmed. Sea Serpents, Water-Sprites, and Goblin Assassins - none of them were supposed to be in the Black Lake.

“We need to get on this right away, Professor,” Dora went on, scowling. “We need to collect any evidence we can to support Harry’s story...”

“Quite so, Miss Tonks,” Dumbledore agreed. “If you would please accompany me. There is no time like the present.”

Harry watched Dumbledore and Dora exiting the tent while Hermione sat beside him, clasping his hand, his eyelids began feeling heavy again..


	2. Chapter 27: La Petite Mort

The daytrip to London with Dora and Fleur had been a welcome respite, and Harry and Hermione both felt much more relaxed. Upon their return to the castle, Hermione decided to take the opportunity for another tryst with Harry, as they really hadn’t had a proper chance since before the Second Task.

Harry had been more than amenable to the idea of Hermione staying the night again, and they retired to his quarters. While he cleaned his teeth and changed into his pyjamas Hermione bit her lip and peered again at the vial of potion which Madam Pomfrey had given her.

She almost didn’t hear Harry returning from the bathroom and hurriedly shoved the vial into her bag, snatching her hand back and trying to look as nonchalant as possible, her heart thudding in her ears.

“Er… everything alright, Hermione?” asked Harry, a puzzled expression on his face.

Hermione’s eyes widened, her cheeks growing hotter.

“What? Oh, er… just fine,” she squeaked. 

Harry hesitated a moment, but thankfully seemed to take her at her word. Hermione grabbed her bag and quickly made her way to the bathroom. When she returned, wearing her nightie and teeth cleaned, Harry was lying in bed chuckling and reading one of the graphic novels she had bought him.

“You were right, Hermione,” he said, looking up at her, “These are brilliant! Captain Haddock and Professor Calculus are hilarious. … And Thomson and Thompson sort of remind me of twin Fudges with bushy moustaches…” 

Hermione climbed into bed and curled up next to Harry, her anxiety melting away. She kissed him on the cheek and sighed happily, and read the Tintin book along with him, not surprised that Harry had picked _Destination Moon_ to read first.

When they had finished reading the graphic novel, Harry gave Hermione a soft green look with those pretty eyes of his, setting her heart aflutter. She wasn’t sure who started the kiss, but their lips connected, her hands pressed against his back, one of his tangled in her messy curls and cradling her head. 

Hermione felt all floaty, and gradually faded into oblivion…

**~o0o~**

Hermione woke up the next morning, her arm across Harry’s chest, her bushy head resting on his shoulder, feeling at once both happy that Harry was perfectly willing to let her move things along at her own pace, and determined not to let the next opportunity slip away. She wasn’t quite certain why she was so nervous about picking back up where they had left off after that shower together days before the Second Task.

She had thought it had something to do with all that silly “Secret Harem” stuff making her feel self-conscious at first, but it was clearly more than that. 

The gears in Hermione’s head started whirring as she worked through it while she listened to Harry’s gentle breathing. Ever since Madam Pomfrey had given her the potion Hermione had been holding back. As Hermione thought more about it things began falling into place.

On the one hand, having the potion opened up the exciting prospect of not having to worry if things inadvertently progressed to the next level while she and Harry were messing around, but on the other, taking the potion as a precaution seemed like a commitment to something Hermione wasn’t sure she was ready for yet. 

Hermione was determined to have a bit more randy fun with Harry next weekend and she was tempted to just forget about the vial instead of working herself into a dither, but intellectually she knew that it was better to be safe than sorry just in case things did go “too far” while they were both getting hot and heavy. 

Bother it! She was just going to have to be a Gryffindor about things and that was that… Hermione felt lips pressing against the top of her bushy head.

“Everything okay?” 

“What? … Oh, er, yes,” squeaked Hermione; she tilted her head up, wondering how long he had been awake. “Just thinking. Good Morning, Harry.”

“‘Morning, Hermione.” He gave her a smile with that soft green look in his eyes again, then kissed her forehead.

Hermione’s toes curled; she looked at Harry, her eyelashes fluttering shyly, feeling safe in Harry’s arms. They cuddled for a bit more, but then Harry began to extricate himself.

“Sorry, Hermione. Gotta use the loo… have a shower.”

“Of course,” she said, feeling slightly guilty as he clambered to his feet when her eyes caught the tent in his pyjama bottoms.

“Wait,” she called out when he was half-way to the bathroom door, “I’ll join you.”

Harry hesitated a moment. 

“Only if you really want to. You don’t have to,” he said when the moment passed.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Hermione was on her feet, trotting over to Harry’s side. She took his hand and kissed him on the cheek.

“I want to,” she said, beaming radiantly at him.

Hermione waited a moment for Harry to use the toilet then entered after she heard it flush. She tugged off her nightie and grinned. Moments later they were both naked, and in the shower, the steam rising around them.

First things first, thought Hermione as the hot water rained down on her and Harry; she reached out to gently clasp his erection and began to stroke it. 

Grinning, Harry began to soap her breasts. Hermione felt a bit giddy as he massaged them and playfully tugged her perking nipples. She began to wank Harry a bit more vigorously. The next thing she knew, his penis was twitching in her hands, ribbons of his seed jetting from the tip and spilling over her fingers. 

As Harry’s spunk washed down the drain, he slid one of his hands down across her wet belly and between her thighs. Hermione bit her lip as his fingers slipped inside her and his thumb flicked her little button. She squirmed, her abdomen rippling and hips bucking, driving his fingers in deeper as the surge of euphoria swept through her. Gasping, she fell forward dizzily, her heaving breasts squashing against Harry’s chest. 

They both held each other in the dazed afterglow under the hot spray of water, enjoying the moment. Then, both of them grinning, Hermione and Harry soaped each other all over, and by the time they had finished rinsing they had brought each other to completion once more.

**~o0o~**

Neville and Ron, both of whom were intently focused on their eggs and bacon, looked up when they heard giggles, and spotted Harry and Hermione arriving late for breakfast.

Students often rolled in late for breakfast on Sunday mornings though, so that wasn’t surprising in and of itself. Something did seem a bit different about them though, Ron thought. For one thing, they both looked more at ease than they had in ages, but that only made sense given their date in London yesterday. So why were Ginny and Luna, and Lavender and Parvati all giggling? 

Ron shared a look with Neville, who looked equally bewildered. 

Neville shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said quietly. 

Ron eyed the giggling girls again and shook his head.

“Mental!” he muttered, stuffing an entire piece of jammy toast into his mouth.

A light seemed to go off in Neville’s head; he leaned in closer to Ron and whispered in his ear.

“Maybe Harry and Hermione—you know—maybe they, er… _‘did it’_ last night. … Seamus told me that girls have a sixth sense for that sort of thing.”

Ron’s eyes boggled, and he choked on his toast. He coughed and wheezed. Alarmed, Neville smacked Ron on his back and Ron coughed up a piece of toast.

“Thanks, Nev,” said Ron hoarsely, taking a deep swig of water.

“Are you alright, Ron?” asked Hermione; she and Harry both shot him looks of concern.

“Oh… er, yeah!” said Ron, unable to look either of them in the eye, his ears reddening, “Just—you know—swallowed the wrong way.”

“That’s what you get for trying to eat a whole piece of toast at once,” Neville chimed in to reinforce Ron’s fib.

Fortunately, Harry and Hermione seemed to accept that story and Neville and Ron returned to their breakfasts, both of them looking a bit red in the face.

**~o0o~**

It was early Tuesday morning and Madam Amelia Bones had just sat down and taken her first sip of tea when her curly-haired secretary poked her head through the door.

“There’s Dumbledore and a French Auror here to see you Ma’am.”

Madam Bones quickly unscrewed her monocle and put her brand-new half-moon spectacles on instead.

“Send them in, send them in.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

A French Witch followed Dumbledore into Madam Bones’s office. The witch had high cheek bones, her sleek black hair was tied back, and she was wearing an elegantly cut pastel-blue trench-coat bearing the emblem of the French Auror office. Her glacier blue eyes were as piercing as Dumbledore’s.

“Would you like some tea?” Madam Bones offered politely.

“Ah, yes, thank you Amelia,” said Dumbledore.

“Merci, please,” said the French Auror, “Zat would be vairy nice.”

“If I may,” said Dumbledore while Madam Bones poured two cups of tea, “allow me to introduce Inspector Charlotte Duerre.”

“Indeed Albus. A pleasure to meet you, Inspector Duerre,” Madam Bones passed the French Auror a steaming teacup. 

“Ze pleasure ees mine,” returned Inspector Duerre graciously, taking a sip of the tea.

“I presume the French investigation of the Sea-Serpent and the Water-Sprites is complete, then,” said Madam Bones after taking a sip of her own, hoping it would ease the knot of tension forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Quite so, Amelia,” said Dumbledore, his twinkles fading, which only served to increase Madam Bones’s unease. “I am afraid that things are just as I feared.”

“This ees ze full report,” said Inspector Duerre, placing a file-folder on Amelia’s desk. “In brief, I say zis—the Sea-Serpent, and ze Watair-Sprites, they show clear signs of tampering. Our forensic analysis revealed zat ze Confundus Charme and ze Targeting Charme were used on all creatures. … Ze Targeting Charmes were of course attuned to ‘Arry Pottair. Wizout the wands of ze casters, we cannot be certain who cast zem of course. But zat ees not within our purview.”

“No, it wouldn’t be,” Madam Bones sighed, setting her teacup on her saucer and massaging her forehead. “That would be mine—and unfortunately, there are very few who had both the access and the motivation to target Mr. Potter.”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore gravely. “Though, it is highly doubtful that Percy Weasley—for all his closeness to the Senior Undersecretary—is the responsible party. That leaves Bagman himself, and whoever assisted him in stocking the lake with the sprites and the serpent. However, …”

“…it is most likely that he was either instructed by Dolores, or Lucius Malfoy, or both, to carry out the actions,” said Madam Bones. “But for the time being there is no proof. … If we can definitively tie Ludo to illegal goblin bookmakers, though, then we shall at least have something with which to pressure him into providing testimony as to whom ordered him to target Mr. Potter.”

“And how is that avenue of investigation coming along?” asked Dumbledore, stroking his long silvery beard pensively. “Have you heard yet from Kingsley?” 

“He and his team do have a lead,” Madam Bones replied, hoping that it would pan out. “With a bit of luck, we should know more after next weekend.”

“Good!” Dumbledore nodded. “The sooner we can determine who is most responsible and make an arrest, the sooner we can focus on what is arguably the graver threat…”

**~o0o~**

By the time Friday rolled around, Hermione’s anticipation was high. No longer feeling as awkward and self-conscious about things, Hermione took Harry’s arm as they made their way to his quarters after dinner. Nonetheless, her cheeks did grow a bit warmer when Fleur and Dora said goodnight, giving them both canny looks.

This time, while Harry was changing and cleaning his teeth, without a second thought Hermione downed the entire contents of the crystal vial which had been in her bag for nearly three weeks. Now, whatever happened between her and Harry, she was completely prepared.

Hermione changed and cleaned her teeth after Harry, feeling more confident than ever. When she returned to Harry’s bedroom, Hermione was certain she would find him reading _The Seven Crystal Balls_ , as he had read the sequel to _Destination Moon_ last Sunday.

Instead, to Hermione’s surprise, she found Harry sitting on the bed, engrossed as he pored over a heavy, ancient looking tome. Her eyes widened as she drew nearer. The cracked leather binding and yellowed parchment looked unnervingly familiar. Harry glanced up suddenly at her, looking like a fox caught in headlights, and slammed the book shut. 

Great! That was the last thing she needed, Hermione fumed internally, a panicked Harry now that she was all ready for whatever may come of things.

“Er… What are you reading, Harry?” she asked as evenly as possible, hoping that she was wrong.

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, his cheeks looking like ripe cherries. “I mean… er, it’s just one of the old books on the bookshelf. It’s kind of boring really…”

Now that she was close enough, Hermione’s eyes could make out the embossed title and she inwardly groaned to have her suspicions confirmed: _Charmes for the Boudoir of the Moste Beauteous._

Maybe the situation could still be salvaged though. If Harry was feeling even as half as aroused by reading that one certain chapter as she had been, she might be able coax him out of his anxiety. This would take a very cautious strategy.

“You know,” Hermione began, with what she hoped was a sultry look in her eye—the look she had seen Fleur give Dora more than once, “that looks like the book I found the spell to charm your mirror with, and _**I**_ didn’t think it was boring at all. There was one chapter in particular which I found to be very interesting—exciting even.”

“Th-there was?” Harry gulped.

“There was! I was hoping that eventually we could put some of it to good use together.”

“Really?” 

That tone was good—more confident. The expression on Harry’s face was good too—less guilty looking.

“Really,” said Hermione, sitting on the end of Harry’s bed.

“You don’t mind that I was looking at, er… pictures of other girls, erm… _doing things_?”

“Do you mind that _**I**_ was looking at the pictures of other girls doing things?” asked Hermione, fluttering her eyelashes innocently and biting her lower lip.

“Er… not really, no!” said Harry, looking as if he was trying to work out whether that was really the same thing or not.

“Well, I don’t really mind either,” she said, then added quickly, “as long as it makes you think of me.”

When Harry gave her a lopsided grin and said, “Always,” Hermione let out an inward sigh of relief and crawled up beside him. 

“Then we don’t really need all this on, do we?”

She began to undo the buttons of Harry’s pyjama top and let it fall open, exposing his chest and abdomen, then she pulled her nightie over her head and chucked it to the end of the bed. Hermione helped Harry out of his shirt completely and straddled his waist, with nothing between her and the bare skin of his belly but the thin fabric of her knickers. 

Hermione jiggled a bit and grinned at the goofy expression on Harry’s face as he eyeballed her bouncing boobs and perking peaks. His hands seemed to reach out of their own accord to fondle her breasts and she leaned over to kiss him heatedly.

The rising passion stirred them both and soon they were entwined, arms around one another, skin against skin, nuzzling each other’s necks, fingers running through messy brown curls and unruly black hair. 

Emboldened, Harry’s lips traveled further than they had before and encircled one of Hermione’s tender pink nipples, flicking it tentatively with his tongue. She let out a little moan in response to the new sensation and he began to hungrily suck. 

Hermione’s knickers grew wetter and wetter and she ground her sex against Harry’s lower abdomen. Sliding back and forth, she felt the head of his pyjama covered lance poking at the crevice between her bottom cheeks. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, as if by accident, she shifted until she felt the length of his erection directly under her.

Gasping, Hermione continued sliding, rubbing the fold of her sopping slit along Harry’s shaft, shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her body every time the tip struck her little pearl. Harry’s hips reacted instinctively, and they moved together feverishly, her wetness soaking through his pyjama bottoms. 

Hermione was already dazed by the cascading crescendo of ecstasy rushing through her veins when Harry stiffened and groaned. She felt his shaft twitching beneath her and his stickiness seeping through the fabric with every pulse and throb.

Harry’s body slackened, and Hermione slumped atop him, her breasts flattened against chest, both of them sweaty and panting as one, fading into a foggy afterglow of bliss.

**~o0o~**

Certain that Harry and Hermione were bonking now, Ron’s libido was in full force. One by one, Ron peered at his half of the stack of photos that he and Neville had been collecting after checking Harry’s fan-mail for “booby-traps” the last couple of weeks, grateful that Harry had shown him how to use the Silencing Charm on his curtains at night.

His heart racing as he ogled the pictures of naked and scantily clad girls, Ron’s imagination ran wild and he reached his hand under the covers to sort himself out…

**~o0o~**

A thin layer of cloud passed across the full moon as the wind whistled under the eaves of the deteriorating ivy-covered manor at the top of the hill. Only the faintest glimmer of light in an upstairs window offered any indication that the abandoned, once-stately home might be inhabited.

Had anyone been brave enough to venture through the overgrown grounds during the dark of night, then to creep silently up the stairs after passing over the threshold, they would have witnessed a paunchy balding man with beady bloodshot eyes and a pointy nose groveling before a tattered armchair, eerie shadows cast by the sputtering candles in the dusty room full of cobwebs. They might have noticed an enormous snake shrouded in darkness as it lay curled near the open door. And they would have heard the voice, thin and icy as it professed to the man with rat-like features.

“I tire of waiting Wormtail—biding my time in the house of he who denied me—waiting to no purpose...”

Wormtail swallowed nervously as he prostrated himself before his master, hoping that the Dark Lord’s disappointment at not having the one he truly wanted would be assuaged enough by the prospect of soon being restored.

“The fools who believe I am dead shall suffer my immeasurable wrath,” the Dark Lord hissed, “And I can no longer tolerate this residence, this reminder of imperfection, while waiting for something which will never happen—waiting for the Blood of Potter when there are none to retrieve him for me by stealth—or waiting for his death at the hand of another when by rights Potter’s life belongs to me.

“You were right, Wormtail...”

Wormtail’s eyes grew a little bigger, his trepidation easing at the barest hint of praise. 

“…And if I must forgo Potter’s Blood, then no purpose is served by taking the Bone of the Father... You did well to find me a young Pureblood in Potter’s stead... Bring forth the boy, Wormtail, that the ritual might begin—midnight fast approaches.”

“Y-yes Master... of course...”

Thrilled at his good fortune, and delighted that everything was going as planned, Wormtail scurried across the room and lifted what looked like a small bundle being guarded near the doorway by Nagini. His eyes glinting in the flickering candlelight, breath quickening with excitement, Wormtail placed the small petrified boy upon the makeshift altar. The Dark Lord’s oozing homunculus leaned forward in the threadbare armchair, his slit-like nostrils flaring in anticipation.

As he picked up a long silver dagger with the hand which was missing a finger, a savage joy curled the corners of Wormtail’s lips; he was thankful beyond measure that this particular ritual did not require the Flesh of the Servant. His voice nearly shaking with demented glee, Wormtail began to utter the incantation for the alternate ritual.

_“One life for another, taken by force... Consumed by the Shadow, your flesh and your blood shall replace what was lost... Devoured by the Spirit, you shall resurrect Him...”_

The ceremonial blade in Wormtail’s hand flashed as it came down, and a blood-curdling shriek echoed throughout the decaying manor.


End file.
